


O Sleeper

by boltlightning



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997)
Genre: Dream Sharing, F/M, Major Spoilers, Missing Scene, Remake compliant, Sequential Vignettes, and all that dream jazz, dream smoochin', otherwise is original compliant as well, pining but also sadness, post-Midgar, references that one chapter 14 scene from the remake, slight AU — cetra powers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:07:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24219379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boltlightning/pseuds/boltlightning
Summary: Aerith dreams loudly, and Cloud bears witness.
Relationships: Aerith Gainsborough/Cloud Strife
Comments: 19
Kudos: 110
Collections: Umbrella & Nailbat | Recs





	O Sleeper

They camp beneath the open sky the first night out of Midgar.

Red scouts a cliff overhang in the crags of the mountains to use as shelter. From the trunk of the Shinra truck, they had pillaged a basic trooper’s pack, which contained a single bedroll and enough rations to get them to the nearby town of Kalm. They fashion a makeshift lean-to out of the bedroll and some sticks, set a small campfire, and settle in to rotate watch shifts.

Barret and Tifa, mercifully, take the first watch. Red stalks off to hunt. Cloud and Aerith shelter beneath the lean-to.

Cloud had grown up in the mountains, closer to the sky than Aerith had ever dreamed of being. When she asks if she can take the spot beneath the overhang, Cloud immediately cedes it. He lounges in the thin grass with his hands behind his head. The last few days had felt like weeks, let alone the actual weeks and months of travel and hardship he had endured before then. Fully exhausted, Cloud gazes at the stars for the first time in what feels like an eternity.

He sighs, and fights down a smile when the breeze sighs with him.

“Cloud?” Aerith’s hand reaches out, searching. She brushes his shoulder.

“What?”

“Nothing, just...checking that you’re there.”

Her voice is quiet, almost meek — very unusual for Aerith, even if she is tired. When she doesn’t say anything else, Cloud asks hesitantly, “Holding up okay?”

“I’ve never left Midgar before.” She shifts to lie on her back as he does. Her eyes flick side to side, taking in the sky horizon to horizon. “I...I miss the steel sky, in some ways.”

“You worried?”

“Maybe a little.” A pause. “...okay, maybe a lot,” she admits. “But I have my bodyguard, right?”

“Of course.”

Without turning his head, Cloud can hear that she smiles at that. “You always know just what to say,” she sighs. They are silent for a long moment, listening to the sounds so foreign to Midgar — to the wind over the grass, to the chirp of insects, to the soft chatter of nighttime creatures. Cloud closes his eyes and allows himself, just briefly, to think of nothing and feel content.

“Cloud? Still up?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m glad I met you,” Aerith says quietly, almost an afterthought. Her voice grows thick as she begins to drift to sleep. “I meant it, when I said it...that night. I’m really glad I met you.”

In an instant, every nerve in Cloud’s body is alert. Aerith had come to him in a dream that night, just before the infiltrated the Shinra Building...but it had been too real, made too much sense to be a dream. He had felt her calling to him, a persistent tug at the back of his mind, but assumed it was his own stubborn resolve speaking. 

_Everyone dies eventually. Every minute, every moment matters. Good, I’m glad. Whatever happens, you can’t fall in love with me. If you think you have, it isn’t real. It’s almost morning, time to go. If that’s what you want. Thank you._

Was she actually speaking to him then? Could they converse when they slept, even if they were miles apart? He has more questions, so many more questions, but they will be on the road for a while; he could wait until then.

Cloud waits until Aerith’s breathing has slowed and she has slipped fully off to sleep to whisper out loud, “I’m glad I met you, too.” 

He falls into a mercifully dreamless sleep until Barret wakes him to take the next watch.

* * *

Cloud expects to sleep poorly the first night in Kalm.

The small town’s proximity to the continent’s chocobo farm serves it well. The beds in the inn are plump with down feathers and fluffed to maximum softness. Cloud sits on his bunk and appreciates the softness in a new way; he has been sleeping on the ground while they travel, and his back aches from the poor rest. Soft beds aside, he had spent the last few hours retelling his experiences in Nibelheim, five long years ago, and his hands tremble at the recollection.

He is surprised he hadn’t had a panic attack in the middle of his tale, but his past is in his friends’ hands now. With the memories fresh in his mind, Cloud lies down on the luxuriously soft bedding and expects to spend another sleepless night staring at the ceiling. Instead, he slips away to the sound of Barret’s snores.

_The Sector 7 slums are unfamiliar. The shantytown of homes are ablaze, debris raining down from the firefight atop the pillar. Tseng’s smile is ice cold. Marlene’s grip is tight and fervent. Grit and sweat on her skin, the smell of gun smoke and fear thick in the air. Scrapes on her legs that sting and bleed. Tseng’s pristine helicopter, Marlene safe at her mother’s house. Relief. The cold dread of a return to Shinra’s R &D department. Trust in Cloud, Tifa’s trust in her. Resolve. Determination. Hope. _

Cloud blinks awake just before dawn. His hand, resting on his chest, had gripped his sweater so hard throughout the night that his hand aches. Those were not his thoughts, nor his experiences during the attack on the Sector 7 pillar. They were…

He looks over at Aerith’s bed. She is still asleep, her back facing him, her breathing regular. Cloud lets his head hit the pillow again and closes his eyes. _A coincidence,_ he tells himself. _Just a coincidence._

It continues to happen — not every night, but often enough. He dreams of _Turks lurking outside the church, helicopters over Sector 5,_ then a few nights later of _sun-bleached wood and dirt beneath fingernails, sturdy flowers and wicker baskets, materia that does nothing._ He wakes early from each dream, only to find Aerith sleeping unperturbed.

They make him feel so sad, and he cannot pinpoint why.

“Guys,” Cloud starts one day on the road, when Aerith and Red are scouting ahead. “Have you been having...weird dreams?”

Tifa looks at him, furrowing her brow. _As though I need to give her anything else to worry about,_ he chides himself, but his curiosity overrides his common sense. “No, I can’t say that I have,” she answers. “Are you…?”

“I’m fine,” Cloud says quickly. Barret, on the other side of Tifa, scoffs.

“Sure ya are,” he grunts. “Me? Sleeping fine. Why d’ya ask?”

“No reason. Just curious.”

Tifa is unconvinced and Barret quirks an eyebrow, but Cloud does not elaborate.

* * *

They arrive in Junon late in the evening, and Cloud is surprised to find that its undercity looks and feels more lifeless than Midgar’s slums. It is old and rundown, the air thick with smog from the underwater mako reactor off the shore. Barret shakes his head.

“Shinra,” he mutters, and rubs at his arm above his prosthetic. 

Cloud, not wanting to dwell, leads the way to the undercity’s inn. Weary from the day’s travels, the party is quick to settle in for the night; Yuffie immediately takes the bed furthest from the door. Barret quietly leaves to go check out the town, but everyone else shuffles in wordlessly, too tired to argue over the remaining beds.

It had been two weeks since the dreams had continued. As Cloud lies down to sleep, he finds himself wishing briefly for a dreamless rest, and falls asleep swiftly.

_By night, the shore of Junon is silver rather than gray. Cloud looks to the sky to find the moon hidden behind scaffolding, some abandoned Shinra construction project obscuring the horizon. But the sky is streaked with green light, awesome and ephemeral._

_Aerith’s figure is silhouetted against the great sky. Cloud approaches carefully, not bothering to mask the sound of his footsteps on the gravelly beach. She pulls her braid over her shoulder and turns to face him, tucking her bangs behind her ears._

_“Heya,” she greets casually. Cloud bobs his head in greeting. Her eyes catch the moonlight, green as the Lifestream in the sky. He clears his throat and looks towards the sea, standing at ease._

_“Where are we?”_

_“Junon, silly.”_

_“No, I mean…” He gestures vaguely at the sky. Aerith absently scuffs the toe of her boot in the sand, considering the sky with a serious gaze._

_“I’m not sure,” she answers softly. “I’ve always been able to connect with people. But this connection is something new to me.” She laughs softly. “Another mystery in the life of Aerith. I must be very special for them to follow me into my sleep.”_

_Cloud is silent. Does she know that he had seen the rest? “Aerith. I’ve been...seeing other things in my dreams.”_

_“Oh?” Coyness returns to her voice; she tilts her head sideways and puts a finger to her chin. “Do all of them have me?”_

_He clears his throat again. “Somewhat. They’ve been...feelings. Memories, more likely. Ones that aren’t my own. It’s almost like...you’re dreaming out loud.”_

_Her eyes go wide, and the seas suddenly churn. She catches his gaze and holds it for a short moment, then—_

Cloud starts awake, instinctively reaching for his sword. His heart races with the suddenness of the movement, and he is now wide awake. Across the room, Aerith is already out of bed; she tugs on her jacket, twists her hair into a ponytail, and motions for him to follow her onto the inn’s back porch.

The scene in the real world is remarkably similar to how it was in the dream. The moon is bright behind the scaffolding, and the stars are hidden beneath a layer of smog. The salt in the air coats his throat. Cloud leans against the wall of the inn, watching Aerith guardedly.

“I’m sorry,” she says immediately, as soon as the door shuts behind her. “It’s not something I can control. If it’s been keeping you up, I can—”

“Aerith.” He puts a hand up to stop her. “It’s fine. I’m a SOLDIER, remember? I can get by on less sleep than normal.”

She glares. “Doesn’t mean it’s good for you.”

“Doesn’t need to be.”

“SOLDIER or not, you need to take care of yourself, Cloud.”

“And _you_ need to figure out what’s happening with your dreams,” he retorts. He crosses his arms over his chest and watches familiar defiance fill Aerith’s eyes. She stands aloof before him, her expression hard, a single hand on her tilted hip. They hold each other’s gazes steadily, neither backing down, before Aerith sighs and relents.

“I do,” she admits finally. “And I wish I knew who to talk to. It’s a Cetra thing I never learned.”

“I’m sorry,” Cloud says reflexively.

“What? Don’t be.” Aerith looks to him again, amusement glittering in her eyes. “You’re the one that’s affected, aren’t you?”

He backpedals. “Y-yeah, but your people—”

“Don’t worry.” She waves a hand dismissively, and steps forward to lean against the wall next to him. “I’ve made it this far without them, haven’t I? I’m a strong girl now.”

But when she looks out to the ocean, Cloud sees some of that strength wane. Her face drops, and she rubs at her arms against the cold breeze off the ocean. She is weighing her options, and clearly feels bad that they’re out here in the first place.

“Look,” he says at length. “I’ll keep what I see to myself, even from you. It doesn’t bother me.”

She takes a long moment to reply, examining his face with such detail that Cloud begins to flush. Is she trying to see if he’s bluffing? He had never been able to bluff her, and breaks her gaze to look towards the shore. “Okay,” she says with an exhale. “I’d really appreciate that. Thank you, Cloud. You’re a good bodyguard.”

“It’s my job,” he replies automatically, and turns to head inside. Instinctively, he opens the door and steps to the side to let her enter first. 

“G’night. And...I’m sorry,” she whispers.

“Don’t be,” he parrots. “Goodnight.”

That night, he dreams of softer things — of _playgrounds, a worn sweater and soft leather, a basket of lilies, adventure and pure luck. There is a new hole in the roof of the church, but that’s alright. The sunlight is warm and the flowers will recover from being crushed_. When Aerith smiles at him the next morning, Cloud feels a warmth in his chest he does not have a name for.

* * *

Cloud keeps his word. It isn’t always easy.

As they try to catch some sleep on the Shinra cargo ship to Costa del Sol, Cloud nods off with the tang of water-rusted steel in his nose. _The pristine walls of Shinra’s R &D are stainless steel, flawless and oppressive and silent. Every door on the specimen containment floor requires a keycard to open, but no one has checked on the Ancients this evening. A single door is cracked, white light spilling from it. _

_Ifalna rests against the single bedframe, bruises and marks from countless injections and beatings marring her arms. She holds in tears as a young Aerith holds her hand and tries, tries, tries to heal her wounds with what magic she has in her. Hojo won’t come tonight; he will come in the morning. They will go over the plan to escape while they can. Time is short._

The memory is so personal that Cloud forces himself awake. He stares at the ceiling of the ship’s hold until they dock.

The party enjoys some peace in Costa del Sol, but none of them are prepared for the scorching sun. Cloud pokes around in Shinra’s affairs while the party investigates the town — Barret secures accommodations and calls Marlene on the pay-phone, Red tries to beat the heat, and Yuffie scams people in the marketplace. Tifa happens upon a friend she knew from Sector 7 and takes the afternoon to catch up; Aerith rests in the inn, claiming a headache. No one gets to swim like they wanted; this is a Shinra-heavy vacation spot, and _Professor Hojo_ of all people is lounging on the beach. The party avoids him at all costs.

That night, _Cloud finds himself on the beach, free of people as it never was in person. The Lifestream wavers like clouds tonight, and the salty air is fresh, unlike Junon. The heat of the day is gone, but the sand is still warm and welcoming._

_“Tifa and I wanted to go swimming,” Aerith says, stretching a hand to him, “but there were...unsavory people there.”_

_Hojo. There was no doubt about whom she was talking about. But she smiles brightly and waggles her fingers at him. Her eyes are like starlight, and before he can think about it, he takes her hand. She tugs him to the water, and they stand and watch the sky with the water up to their thighs._

_“This isn’t swimming,” he points out unnecessarily. Aerith laughs softly and rests her head against his shoulder._

_“That was never a requirement for a nice day,” she says._

There is never a dull moment on their journeys, and Cloud finds that Aerith’s loud dreams become a part of it. It is an easy, if uncontrollable, way of getting insight into Aerith’s true feelings. She is so brave, so strong, even as she learns the truth of her heritage and the weight of the journey upon her shoulders. But Cloud is privy to her most private moments, to the dreams her Cetra power cannot keep in check, and sees how the pressure affects her.

Cosmo Canyon brings knowledge, but none of it is relevant to their dreams. The elder’s of Red’s (well, Nanaki’s) tribe have many tales of the Ancients, and Aerith is relieved to learn that she is not the only one who hears the cries of the Planet. But none of them are Cetra themselves, and when Aerith asks Bugenhagen about strange dreams, he simply hoots and asks if she’s had too many of Cosmo Canyon’s signature cocktails.

In person, Aerith takes Cloud aside just before they rest for the night. “No one knows how to stop it,” she says softly, so no one will overhear. “I’m sorry.”

“I already said you shouldn’t be sorry, Aerith,” he retorts. “It’s fine. You’re not alone.”

Her expression is unreadable, and she holds his gaze for an uncomfortable amount of time. “Somehow,” she begins slowly, “that makes it better. I’m not alone. Thanks, Cloud.”

_But beneath the sky in their dreams that night, Aerith stares up at the Lifestream, sitting cross-legged in the dust. When he sits next to her, Aerith slips her hand into his, and he does not pull away. They both stare at the Planet’s very life source and wonder what it is they can do to help._

Cloud wants to know what it all means. Why does no one else get these dreams? If he asks Aerith her intentions — their physical connection in these private moments, their mental bond and intonation — is he breaking his promise? She has spent her whole life feeling like an outsider, with very few people to call true friends. Something in him feels a fierce pride that she trusts him with her innermost thoughts, and he does not want to violate that trust, nor complicate her life further.

 _You can’t fall in love with me,_ she had said.

He thinks that sometimes, these things can’t be helped.

* * *

Nibelheim is the only path through Mount Nibel.

Cloud braces himself and stays close by Tifa’s side. Shinra had painstakingly put the town back in order after Sephiroth razed it to the ground, rebuilding everything from the ground up. But they are the only two surviving natives from the village, and Cloud spots the inconsistencies as they tentatively purchase supplies in town. They add to the tension in his chest and the splitting pain in the side of his head. It is similar enough that Cloud knows where everything is, but different enough to give him pause when he spots an inconsistency, like a shadow that stays just in his peripheral vision.

It is Nibelheim, sure. But it is wrong.

He looks at Tifa, concerned, and she offers him a smile that is intended to be reassuring. But Cloud sees the apprehension in her eyes, and knows that she can still see the village in flames as clearly as he can.

Ultimately, the party decides to get an extra night of rest before they traverse the mountains. Cloud insists he is fine with them staying the night, and Tifa is equally as adamant — but truthfully, Cloud would much rather sleep in a dank cave than the false town. The way Tifa hovers by the windows and cracks her knuckles nervously tells Cloud that she feels the same. She says nothing, but sometimes catches his eye and gives him a small nod. And he always nods back, the only solidarity he feels he can manage,

For the first time, he finds himself hoping to slip into Aerith’s dreams. Instead, he sees _the false Nibelheim, dark and foreboding beneath the shimmering sky. Aerith stands in front of the water tower when he emerges from the inn._

_“Heya.”_

_“Hey.” He stares up at the tower, and is flooded with memory. “I was hoping we’d be somewhere else.”_

_“I can wake you up, if you’d prefer,” she offers softly._

_“No. It’s fine.” He clenches his fists to his side. Damn his traitorous body — why do his hands shake even in his dreams?_

_“You always say it’s fine, but it never is.” She takes his trembling hands in hers and holds them tight. “Cloud. Talk to me. Tell me what bothers you, big or small.”_

_He could drown in those eyes. Despite everything, she is so heartfelt, so willing to take on his burdens, so patient with his vulnerabilities. Aerith had never failed to call him on his ego or tease him about his aloofness, but she has always cared. And perhaps that is why he takes a deep breath and says, “Okay.”_

_The shop’s bricks are the wrong shade of red. The steps of the water tower spiraled the other way, and the third one from the bottom creaked. The facade of the Shinra Mansion was never so clean. The window on the Strife home was lower to the ground; he used to sneak out at night from there. And the people, of course, could not be the same ever again._

_Aerith follows him from spot to spot, silent. She is grave and serious and listens intently, as though this is a lecture. When Cloud has exhausted himself, both in inaccuracies and energy, she takes his hands again._

_“Shinra was wrong,” she says. “Whatever else happens while we’re here, you have to tell yourself that, Cloud. Shinra was wrong. Your memories are real. Shinra was wrong.”_

He wakes to pale sunlight on the ceiling. _Shinra was wrong,_ he repeats, like a mantra, and wears it like armor.

* * *

The plains on the path to Rocket Town are vast and open, fields of wheat and grass with only small creaks and a solitary road to interrupt them. After the grit and gravity of Corel and Mt. Nibel, the party relishes the ready sun and fresh air (aside from Vincent, who seems to wish he stayed in his coffin, and Cait Sith, who seems ambivalent to weather of any kind). Nibelheim is at his back, metaphorically and physically, and Cloud feels lighter for it.

He finds himself stealing glances at Aerith when the rest of the party is occupied — furtive looks from across the campsite, usually, or small glimpses as they travel. He wishes...well, what does he wish for? They talk all the time. There is no shortage of smiles on her part, no shortage of her laughter and stories. What does he _want_? What could possibly come to fruition if he asked her about their unusual relationship? The last thing Cloud wants, on this ridiculous, miraculous, haphazard journey is more trouble.

But Tifa will purposefully sit on the ground so Cloud can sit next to Aerith at camp. Vincent will take watch with Red so Cloud can take watch with Aerith. Barret eyes them suspiciously, and Cait Sith always seems to look so _smug_ when they’re talking. Maybe he’s just reading into it, but it seems _everyone_ has cued into whatever the hell is going on between them.

For her part, Aerith will sometimes give Cloud a knowing smile when Barret sends them off to scout together, but she says nothing.

One fair summer night, in a field of soft long grass, Cloud dreams.

_They are in Elmyra’s house as Cloud last remembered it. Upon her favorite hill, surrounded by flora cultivated by her own hand, kneels Aerith, tending to the flowers by the dim light of the Lifestream. Cloud knows the path well and approaches slowly._

_“Took you long enough,” Aerith says without turning._

_“You picked this spot, of all places?” Cloud answers instead. He clicks his sword off of his back and lays it carefully on the ground, where it won’t crush any flowers. “You know I’m not good with the flowers.”_

_“Oh, nonsense,” she chides lightly. “They love you.”_

_“Do they?” Cloud taps his foot impatiently. “I remember crushing some of their friends a few months back.”_

_She glances over her shoulder at him, and her eyes flash with amusement. “They’ve forgiven you.”_

_“Oh, great,” he says, his voice thick with sarcasm._

_“Take a seat.”_

_With dirt-stained hands, Aerith pats a patch of earth next to her, with just enough space for Cloud to sit without destroying any more flower brethren. This time, he sits close enough for their shoulders to brush, and Aerith leans gratefully against him._

_“Things have changed, Cloud,” she starts. “A lot is different from when you crushed my flowers.”_

_“I thought you forgave me,” he protests, and she smiles coyly._

_“The flowers forgave you.”_

_“You’re impossible.”_

_Aerith laughs and pushes his shoulder with hers. “But that’s why we’re friends,” she says in a singsong voice. “Yes, things have changed...I’m glad this hasn’t.”_

_“Hasn’t it?” Cloud asks, before he can think about his words._

_She falls suddenly silent. Cloud curses himself; he had been enjoying the light-hearted change of pace, and just had to go and ruin it._

_Aerith says softly, “It has, you’re right. Cloud, I called you to this garden specifically because it’s...well, it’s home to me. And I wanted us to be somewhere familiar and safe.”_

_“For?”_

_“I said back in Midgar that I felt I was trapped in a maze.” She stares at her hands, clasped tightly in her lap. “I still don’t know where it will lead. Some things are clearer because of you and our friends...so much is not. And these meetings add to the fog. Cloud, you mean so much to me. But I don’t know what waits for us out there. What I do know is, it won’t be easy, nor kind, nor fun. It will be hard.”_

_For someone so frank, she could be so opaque. Cloud suddenly finds himself frustrated. “Aerith.”_

_“Cloud?”_

_“Whatever waits for us out there, whatever you’ve heard from the Lifestream — does it matter for now?” He struggles to find the words. “Not necessarily this moment, but the present as a whole. The last time we were here, you said everyone dies eventually, so we should live in the moment._ You _taught me that.”_

_When she looks up at him, her eyes are glassy with tears. Could he not say one single thing right? But she smiles, and catches the first tear on the heel of her hand before it can roll down her cheek. “I did. You’re a quick learner.”_

_He reaches out to brush the next tear from her face, and she does not shy away. “Aerith,” Cloud says again in a low voice, suddenly filled with courage, “can I kiss you?”_

_“You’re an idiot,” she laughs. “Of course you can.”_

_So he kisses her, his courage turned to fear, his heart in his throat. His hand tentatively cups her cheek, but as usual, Aerith takes the lead from him; she pulls away, grins, then takes his face in both her hands and kisses him more firmly, more fully. Cloud’s surprise gives way to thoughtless bliss at the feel of her smile against his lips, her hips beneath his hands._

_They part panting, leaned awkwardly against each other. Aerith calmly repositions herself to fit snugly against him, smoothing down her skirts; he puts an arm over her shoulders slowly, almost asking, until she rolls her eyes and positions it more comfortably around her._

_“So, while I’m being an idiot,” he says, still breathless, “what does this mean for us?”_

_Aerith kisses the corner of his mouth. “It means,” she says slowly, “we love what we have while we can, for as long as we are able.”_

_He gives her arm an affirmative squeeze._

The sky is still streaked with darkness when Cloud blinks awake. Sleeping in the soft grass hadn’t been his smartest idea; the grass is wet with morning dew, and much of it absorbed into his clothes. He sits up and runs a hand through his hair.

Tifa, keeping watch with Vincent, waves hello. Cloud waves back, and as he approaches to join them at their small fire, he glances at Aerith. She smiles in her sleep, curled up comfortably with Red at her back. 

Cloud has never been very affectionate, and shies away from almost all physical contact — but suddenly, he finds that the distance between him and Aerith is suffocating.

He clears his throat. _Shit. Get it together, Strife._

“Sleep well?” Tifa asks, as Cloud drops next to her with a sigh. His back aches, his arms itch, and his shirt is nearly soaked through. He answers after a pensive moment.

“Yeah.” Cloud looks to the sky. “All things considered? Yeah.”

* * *

The _Tiny Bronco_ was meant to fly, but it currently serves as the party’s boat. It was also meant to seat 6 passengers and some cargo, and between the entire party and their gear, they are pushing the weight limit in a major way.

“Y’all were lucky this is a water plane,” Cid grumbles, as he climbs to check the engine for the third time that day. “‘Else we’d be in some deep shit.”

Cloud’s motion sickness, while eased by the mako in his blood, had never fully gone away. As the party makes their way west to Wutai, he hides it as best he can...whereas Yuffie does not try to hide hers, and spends a lot of the trip looking terribly green. There is very little privacy on board, and the ragtag gang of companions all eagerly scout the horizon for the shore.

Cloud sits behind the pilot’s seat, his gaze fixed on a point in the distance. He focuses on the mission ahead to keep his mind off the less-than-stellar travel circumstances, and barely notices Aerith clambering into the seat next to him.

“Fun day, huh?” she asks casually.

“Define ‘fun’.”

“...ah. An adjustment: exciting day, huh?”

“It won’t be as exciting when Yuffie hurls on us.”

From the corner of his eye, Cloud can see Aerith crack a smile and settle in next to him. “Well, Cid says we should be in Wutai by nightfall,” she says, just before she yawns and stretches her arms as far into the air as she can manage in the plane. As her arms come down, she rests one on Cloud’s shoulder and gives him a knowing look. “You’re looking a little pale too, Cloud.”

Cloud keeps his eyes on the fixed point. “Am I?”

Her answer is a small _hmph_ that Cloud is all too familiar with. How she sees right through his words, even in the waking world, Cloud will never understand. She draws her arm back.

“I think a nap could do you good,” she says. “You’ll dwell on Sephiroth too much if you’re awake with nothing to do.”

“She’s right,” Nanaki says from behind, and Tifa, who is keeping an eye on Yuffie, agrees with a visibly enthusiastic nod. Cloud rolls his eyes.

“I’m not a little kid,” he huffs.

Aerith simply winks.

Despite it all, Cloud does find himself dozing off around sunset. The drone of the plane’s engine puts most of the party to sleep, save for Cid and Barret up front.

_Junon is below them; the Shinra airship is in front of them. The sea stretches before him over the edge of the landing strip, the horizon a bright line haloed green against the Lifestream. Cloud looks down at himself; unlike the last time he had been here, his clothes are his normal garb, not the uniform of a Shinra trooper._

_“Do you get seasick?”_

_Aerith approaches from behind. Her hands are clasped behind her back and her ribbon bobs with the sway of her gait. A devious gleam is in her eyes, but he greets her with a kiss to the cheek anyway._

_“I used to,” he admits. “It was worse on land, before.”_

_“What about air?”_

_“Hmm?”_

_She points at the airship looming above them. In Cloud’s haste the last time they were here, he hadn’t looked closely at the ship, but the name printed on the side is_ The Highwind. _Cid must have had a hand in making this one._

_“You said you’d take me on an airship,” Aerith says, her mischievous smile firmly in place. “Will you hate every second of it?”_

_“I could never hate any time with you.”_

_“Cloud!” Color and surprise flush her cheeks. “Since when are you so smooth?”_

_“When have I not been?” he asks, hands on his hips. Aerith doesn’t answer, and simply raises her eyebrows. Cloud clicks his tongue. “Never mind that. We’ll go on the airship. I keep my word.”_

_Her eyes shine. “You really do.”_

Their journeys in Wutai are not quite as sweet. The next few days are hectic; they scramble to get their materia back from Yuffie, buddy up with the Turks, and run into _Don Corneo_ of all people. During the brief instances they do sleep, Cloud sees Aerith’s anxieties — _Temple of the Ancients, materia that does nothing, the keystone, heritage and reunion. We will find answers at the Temple. We will find danger at the Temple. We will find Shinra at the Temple._

They eventually find their way back to the Gold Saucer, and Cloud sees Sephiroth and the black-cloaked clones in his own dreams. It is no longer burning Nibelheim he visits, but fields of vast, untouched snow and craggy mountains that Shinra had yet to metropolize.

Cloud understands Aerith’s dreams little, and it seems they only get more complicated as their bond grows deeper, but he had never questioned it. It is more concerning to him that he has stopped understanding his own now, too.

“Do you see my dreams too?” he asks, when they set up camp that night. The cool of night is a welcome reprieve from the dry weather surrounding the Gold Saucer, arid and horrifically hot. Aerith seems unperturbed by both the weather and the question, and does not pause as she sets up a tent.

“No,” Aerith answers immediately. “Why?”

“Nothing. Just..they’re getting weird. Maybe you could understand what I’m seeing.”

“Cloud. You’ve seen my dreams. You know better than anyone they’re no more scrutable than others,” she says plainly. Cloud concedes the point, and when he does not elaborate, Aerith adds, “Can you show me?”

“Show you?” He knits his brow. “How?”

“With words, silly. Tell me about it,” she says. She reaches over and gives his hand a squeeze. “I may not be able to see them, but I have it on good authority that I’m a _very_ astute listener.”

Always so humble. Aerith flashes him what he has come to know as her trouble-making smile, and he feels his heart skip a beat. Oh, what he wouldn’t give to _not_ be a lovesick idiot.

“Dunno how useful that’d be. Don’t have a lot to say.”

“Cloud. I don’t think that’s true at all.” She stands up straight and looks him straight in the eye, holding him in place. Against his will, his breath catches. “You have a lot to say. You just don’t always have the words.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” he mumbles.

“So tell me when you’re ready,” she says. Softness replaces the snark in her voice, and she sits on the ground by the tent and pats the ground next to her. After a moment, Cloud joins her, lounging with his arms propping him up.

“When I’m ready,” he repeats thickly. When will that be? Cloud grips his hands into the dusty ground where Aerith cannot see them trembling. If even the thought of being near Sephiroth makes him shake, how could he ever talk about it?

The party arrives in the scorching desert outside the Gold Saucer, and Cloud drags his attention from dreams to the task at hand: the Keystone to the Temple of the Ancients.

* * *

The Keystone is in their possession, and Aerith settles up her debt.

They are going on a date, she informs Cloud, a _real_ date, not just one in their dreams. And before he can object, she has bodily pushed him from their gaudy hotel into the excitement of the Gold Saucer. An employee in the center square informs them that it is Enchantment Night, and all attractions are free — which explains the notable traffic throughout the park despite the late hour. Hand in hand, Aerith leads Cloud through the Saucer, unable to be persuaded from her quest.

Cloud is tired. Just that afternoon he fought in the Battle Square for the Keystone, and barely had time to shower before Aerith had knocked on his door. He had even left all his armor and weapons behind in her haste. Beyond the Gold Saucer, Shinra closes in on the Temple of Ancients, and Sephiroth is... _somewhere_. There is much to plan for, and it buzzes in the back of Cloud’s mind like a persistent mosquito. Their troubles are great, and their quest even greater.

Yet Aerith’s excitement is contagious, and Cloud’s haze of exhaustion quickly clears. Aerith glides through the crowds, her tug on Cloud’s arm light yet insistent. Through it all, despite the gaudiness of the Gold Saucer, Aerith always comes out the other side with a grin. The Event Square had declared them the 100th couple to enter the Square that night, and they had been pulled on stage into a _live improv show._ (Hoo boy.)

“Well, that was stupid,” she tells him, breathless as they step down from the stage. She beams, tucks her ruffled hair behind her ear, and turns towards the map. “What else can we get into?”

They catch the last chocobo race of the night. Around them, strangers holler at the bird they had bet on, while Aerith cheers for the one with the funniest name, cheeks flush with excitement. Cloud keeps half his mind on the race — he can glance at the leaderboard from where they sit — but he mostly watches her.

As the birds near the finish line, she catches him staring. “What’s up, Cloud?” she asks. Her voice is rough from the shouting. “Something on my face?”

Cloud looks back to the race, hoping she can’t see the color on his cheeks as clearly as he can see hers. “No, you’re…” _Beautiful. Tell her she’s beautiful, idiot._ “...fine.”

The look she gives him is far too sly for his comfort. “Damn right I’m fine,” she says airily, and crosses her arms over the bannister in front of her.

Their last stop of the night is the gondola, boasting a sweeping view of the Gold Saucer under the flare of fireworks. It is nice to sit still somewhere quiet, even though the sway of the gondola’s motion makes Cloud’s stomach roll. Aerith, across from him, leans back against the cushioned seat with a contented sigh.

They both sit up when the fireworks begin. Distant pops and the sharp smell of smoke reach their gondola cart, and throw brilliant colors upon its dark walls. Aerith leans to peek out the window, hands clutching the edge, her eyes bright and glittering with dancing lights. 

Cloud’s anxieties are a dull weight at the back of his mind, a faint pressure. He realizes that he is enjoying himself, in spite of it all, and feels his stomach flutter when Aerith turns to him with that beaming smile.

They are on a mission to save the Planet, after all — shouldn’t they be allowed a moment of fun?

“Cloud, I…” Her smile slips a bit, and she suddenly gazes out the window again. There is something distant in her expression, as though she looks at someone Cloud cannot see in the distance. “You reminded me so much of Zack. The way you walk, the way you fight...The eyes. First Class SOLDIERs and all. But you’re different. Things are different.”

She reaches over to take his hands in hers. For once he is not wearing gloves, and feels the callouses on her palms and fingertips, hard won from a lifetime of gardening. When her skin touches his, he sees _sun-steeped days walking the fields outside of Rocket Town, long talks in the Cosmo Canyon. His hand between her shoulder blades, the gleam of mako eyes on a dim night. Pale hair, soft as down feathers, and a faint smile shared across a campfire._ “All this to say,” she says softly, drawing him from the visions, “I’m searching for you, Cloud.”

He blinks and knits his brow. “But I’m right here.”

“I know. What I mean is, I...I want to meet you. The real you.” She squeezes his hands. “Whoever hides behind the big sword and the SOLDIER title. Whoever meets me in my dreams.”

Cloud’s throat goes dry. He clears it, desperately, and struggles to hold her gaze. She had always seen him for what he did, not what he said he was...perhaps his days passing as a competent party leader and SOLDIER were over. He opens his mouth to — what, object? Explain himself? But the moment is lost when the gondola gives one final lurch, and the Gold Saucer attendant tells them to disembark.

“I had fun tonight. Let’s go again,” Aerith says, as they head back to the main plaza. Cloud, still reeling, does not answer immediately; Aerith tilts her head at him and quips, “What, you don’t like being with me?

He swallows. “It’s not that.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” She smiles and turns to lead the way, but Cloud impulsively reaches out to take her hand before she can step away. He kisses her there, in the shadow of some stairwell in the most obnoxious place on the planet, the acrid smell of fireworks still lingering.

It is, somehow, still perfect. 

When they part — with Aerith’s hands holding his face, Cloud holding Aerith carefully but firmly — Aerith laughs and rests her forehead against his. “I guess you _do_ like being with me.”

“You could say that.”

“Let’s head back,” she suggests, breathless. “We have some long nights coming up.”

They stay there tangled in the shadows, neither wanting to end the moment, until a familiar humming and jingling interrupts them. Cloud stands on his toes and peers up the stairwell to see Cait Sith humming nervously to himself. He reaches into his moogle’s pocket and pulls out — the Keystone they had fought so hard to earn.

Aerith inhales sharply. “What is he doing?”

Cait Sith heads towards the chocobo racetrack. In one bound, Cloud leaps up the stairs and shouts, “Cait, stop!” and Aerith follows on his heels as they give chase.

Cait Sith cedes the Keystone to Tseng of the Turks, waiting in a helicopter above the Gold Saucer. Cait Sith is a toy cat operated by a Shinra employee, working against his will (or so he says) to help Shinra find the Promised Land. Cait Sith threatens Marlene’s safety, and tells them they will need to hurry to the Temple in the morning.

Cait Sith is a traitor and a spy, and any warm feelings left in Cloud have gone cold.

No one sleeps well in the inn that night. Cid, Tifa, and Barret stay up late to talk strategy, but the emotional whiplash of the night has left Cloud dead on his feet. He crawls into bed, fully aware that Aerith is just on the other side of the wall from him, and falls into a shallow sleep.

He dreams frantic, piecemeal dreams. _Tseng at the wooden door, 15 years younger, polite and distant and unnervingly still. His smile never reaches his eyes. Reno and Rude are good men, but they do bad things. Helicopters over Sector 5, scaring the residents, all for her. R &D’s cold steel walls, Hojo’s fingers on her skin. Murals on metal walls. A new wagon for her, flowers for sale in a park, mako eyes, budding romance. So many questions left for him. Moving forward, not back. _

_Zack was hot sparks off a campfire, unpredictable and delightful and made of bad luck. Cloud is a forest stream threatening to overflow after a rain, steady on its course, running towards a waterfall. Cloud is warmth and solidarity, Cloud is comfort and rescue, and Cloud is here. Cloud is not gone. And time is up._

Cloud wakes before dawn to find that Cid and Barret have not come to bed yet. He stares at the popcorn ceiling of the Gold Saucer’s inn and does not know why his heart races or his chest aches.

Time is up.

* * *

_Even while unconscious, Cloud’s body hurts. He blinks into the dream and finds himself in a forest clearing he doesn’t recognize, white mist obscuring the dense floor. The air is fresh and clean, but void of the sounds of wildlife. This was certainly not at the Temple of the Ancients, where his body rests, where they had found…_

_Sephiroth. Shinra. Meteor, the materia that should never be touched. Cloud’s memory floods back to him, and along with it a fresh wave of shame and fear. Sephiroth could control him, and he had become dangerous to his party. He had attacked Aerith._

_She peeks around a tree at him, her eyes as bright and curious as ever. Aerith is unharmed here, and even smiles when she sees him._

_“Cloud, can you hear me?” she asks, head tilted._

_“Yeah. I hear you. Sorry for...what happened.”_

_“Don’t worry about it.”_

_“I couldn’t help it.”_

_“Oh? Then why don’t you_ really _not_ _worry about it, and I’ll take care of Sephiroth?” She laughs lightly, and hides it behind her hand. “And you take care of yourself so you don’t have a breakdown, okay? That’s just as important.”_

_She steps back behind the tree, and when she emerges again, he stands by her side in the center of the clearing. Aerith clasps her hand behind her back as Cloud looks around, looking for anything in this place he would recognize. In dreams, she had only ever taken him to places she had been before, but he did not recognize this._

_“What is this place?”_

_“The forest that leads to the City of the Ancients, called the Sleeping Forest.” Aerith looks around fondly, the same way she looked around her garden. She is turned away from him as she says, voice still chipper, “It’s only a matter of time before Sephiroth uses Meteor. That’s why I have to rush to protect the planet — only a survivor of the Cetra, like me, can do it.”_

_With the usual spring in her step, she walks forwards down a path that splits the forest in two. “The secret to it all is just down here. Or at least...it should be. I can feel it, like I’m being led by the hand.”_

_Cloud, frozen in place, can only stare as she waves at him. The smile she gives him is one he recognized from the night she had been trapped in the Shinra Building — one of somber acceptance and a duty to fate._

_“Then, I’ll be going now.” She nods, as though to herself, and breaks her gaze to turn away. “I’ll come back when it’s all over.”_

_“Aerith?” he calls, but she does not turn back. She walks down the path, and Cloud runs for her — but he is stuck, unable to move his legs, staring at her back as she vanishes into mist. Like a light turning off, she is suddenly gone. Cloud stares, his heart heavy in his throat._

_A voice, sickly familiar, rings in his head. “She will be a difficult one, don’t you think?” Sephiroth asks. Cloud feels a hand on his shoulder, and cannot bring himself to turn to see him. “We must stop that girl soon.”_

Cloud wakes slowly, despite the sheer panic in his heart. He holds up a hand above his eyes and tests his reflexes, his control over his limbs. Blood smears the knuckles of his metal gauntlet, caught in the gaps between the plates over his fingers. Cloud knows it is not his, and lets out a shaky breath.

“You looked like you were having a nightmare,” Barret says, his voice low. He reaches out to put a hand on Cloud’s shoulder. “You okay?”

 _Not at all._ “I’m fine,” he says shortly, and sits up to face them. He sees the caution and worry in their eyes, and feels his stomach drop.

Tifa clears her throat and says hesitantly, “You know, Cloud...Aerith is gone. Everyone is out looking for her.”

So it was real, then, what he had seen. Wasn’t it always real? He closes his eyes and recalls the mystical forest. “...the City of the Ancients. That’s where she’s headed.”

Cloud is full of fear, full of uncertainty. If Sephiroth could control him, enough to make him turn on his friends, his loved ones, how could he ever hope to save Aerith? Barret gives Cloud an impassioned lecture for his actions and doubts, and he deserves every second of it.

The party heads north almost immediately. He looks to the northern continent, his heart filled with equal parts fear and resolve. The dreams have stopped, and though Cloud knows this is real, it feels like he is still wading through something metaphysical and incomprehensible. At any moment, he expects to look up and see the sky streaked with Lifestream, and Aerith will be there waiting with her cryptic smile.

 _If everything’s a dream,_ he thinks numbly to himself, _don’t wake me._

**Author's Note:**

> i'm sorry about this but the idea took hold of me with an iron grip and well, here we are. i am willing to meet anyone behind a denny's parking lot as penance for my crimes if you so wish


End file.
